


Grave Bait

by Buffo827



Category: Repo! The Genetic Opera (2008)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:08:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23388526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buffo827/pseuds/Buffo827
Summary: How GraveRobber got so used to tracking Shilo down.
Relationships: GraveRobber/Shilo Wallace
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	Grave Bait

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheArtOfSuicide](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArtOfSuicide/gifts).



Graverobbing was a dangerous business. Keeping, cutting and selling Zydrate against the law was even more so. But in a world that was steadily becoming owned, run and enforced under GeneCo and its monopoly, a boy could only do so much.

So he took to the streets. 

And slowly, he forgot what had come before them. 

That was, until one of the men from the news broadcasted across the massive screens floating in the sky had appeared in his graveyard with… something in tow.

The something was intriguing. At first, it seemed as though the orchid had grown feet and was walking behind the Doctor of its own volition, which in the time and place he was, the boy found he couldn't be surprised by. 

As it turned out, behind the orchid was a child… less than half his age, certainly, and nearly as white as the paint he'd taken up to hide his features in the dim moonlight. 

He snuck behind the tombstones, relying on his slight teenaged built to conceal him in the poor light. He gripped his Zydrate gun in hand just in case he needed an impromptu weapon, and watched as the little girl laid the potted plant at the door of an intricate grave. These days, people built them up so early… for all he knew she was leaving the flower for herself.

Still, something was intriguing about the little thing. Thin, pale… for all intents and purposes, she should be dead like the hundreds, thousands of children who looked just like her… the ones he half filled vials from and then left to… do whatever it was young bodies did. 

He was snapped out of the reverie by a tiny, tinny cough. His eyes peered over the edge of the gravestone he was crouched behind, landing on the vibrant blue pill that the Doctor popped into a glass of water and handed to his daughter. 

In moments they were gone….

That was the first time he saw Shilo Wallace. 

It was only a few months later when he saw her again. 

He'd carved himself out a little place in the underground graveyard he'd found beneath the tomb he now knew belonged to a Marni Wallace. Based on the portrait hanging on the wall of the mausoleum, he assumed it wasn't actually belonging to the tiny girl he'd seen leave flowers at the door. 

The great stone coffin in the center was empty, he'd checked, but the tunnel at the back lead to rich pickings. 

He was just pocketing his latest glass vial when he heard footsteps. He hastened to hide himself, staring in the direction of the sound and ready to fight or flee depending on the attack. 

As it turned out, there was nothing to fear. It was the girl again, a gas mask fastened tight over her pale face as she picked her way down the tunnel, pausing in the light of his torch to give him a good look. 

She was somehow even smaller close up. If he had to guess, she was five or six. Were they standing side by side she'd barely come up to his ribs. 

The advantages of being an eighteen year old boy: you have every confidence in yourself whether it was founded or not. 

He has started to stand, ready to ask if she was lost, when he heard the Doctor’s voice. 

“Shilo? Did you take your medicine?”

The little girl gasped and took off running back up toward the way she'd come. 

He scowled. Something was definitely going on here, and he wasn't sure he liked it.

By the time he saw her again, he'd gathered a following of hungry scalpel sluts to help him get by. As long he made the payments… stayed low…he'd be fine. He'd even started to serve his clean, quick drug to the young fourteen year old heiress Carmela Largo herself. She'd started to insist that she'd changed her name, but he couldn't be bothered to remember. 

Work as usual was spiced up in the appearance of his mysterious little girl, this time having crept all the way into the tomb that he now knew belonged to some female family member. 

He peered in the stonework window, scowling behind his paint. She was… reading? And holding a jar aloft as she watched a moth flutter in front of her. Before he could blink, there was a snap of the lid meeting the jar and the moth was trapped. 

Shilo was older now… maybe ten, if he'd guessed correctly the first time around. She was starting to look like an actual human child, more than the porcelain doll he'd witnessed in the tunnels. He could appreciate the way she carefully packed the jar away into her rucksack and started on another insect. 

What could a girl like that be doing with bugs of all things?

That was when he decided to follow her. Curiosity killed the cat, after all… but satisfaction brought it back.

He had followed her back through the tunnels when she went, the two of them meeting a door, that when opened revealed a hallway of what he could only assume was her house.

It took a few tries, but he had eventually figured out where her home was above the street. From there he could see her nearly any time he wanted to. She was often at the window, and he found himself building a routine around checking for her when he went out to stock up on little glass vials.

That was how he spotted her naked. 

He'd been walking past, casually avoiding the GenCops as he did, and had happened to look up. The sight that met him had made him nearly drool onto the sidewalk. 

Times had changed, and Shilo was now at least fifteen. How her overbearing father hadn't noticed that she was changing in front of a wide open curtain was beyond him… but he was grateful. 

Womanly curves had just started to appear, her small, pert breasts promising little growth as she'd grow. Still, somewhere deep within him, Graverobber had been programmed to find the sway of her hips intoxicating. 

All too soon, she was covered in white muslin and climbing back into bed, leaving her Tom to shake himself and hurry back to his favorite alley for a quick transaction. 

He had carefully kept himself at arms reach until Shilo got too bold for his comfort. In recent days, she had started to step outside the tomb, even looking around the graveyard as though she meant to explore. By now, he was professional at keeping away from the cops. He was a wanted man, after all… and if they didn't get him. Repoman would. 

He scowled when he heard the door of said mausoleum, and the kid herself came stumbling out after some Zydrate blue scorpion. She caught it, and he suddenly started to worry… did she know what was making that thing glow? Was she going to try to extract it herself?

Now was as good a time to educate her. He seemed to startle her when he stood up from behind the tomb he was working in, but he paid it little mind, just kept at his extractions. When the GenCops came sniffing, he'd had to pull her back underground and give her a good hard shock. The needle right up the nostril of the nearest corpse, deeper that was strictly necessary. She looked adequately scared for his taste, and he was ready to take her back so she could get home when he appeared. 

The Repoman.

The borrowed heart in his chest lept and jolted as he fled, only stopping to think of Shilo when he was safely back in his alleyway. He cursed himself, the sky, and every whore that walked by for making him leave her there.

His fears were unfounded. She was untouched… unmarred by the touch of a scalpel or forceps… she was fine. Until she wasn't. 

He regretted taking the money. Taking the body. Letting Amber wipe him out and string him up. Had he known who Marni was, he'd have refused outright. 

And still, his kid was looking for a cure, a night light, in the darkest corners of her world. 

You're beautiful….

In the aftermath of the opera, he sought her out. She was exhausted and bloodied, but happy to see him. When she was bathed and once again the soft, fragile thing he'd been watching all these years, he was more than happy to hold her, head on his chest as she slept through the alarms telling her to take her medicine. 

She slept through all of them, and woke up with a clear mind.

“Well, kid? What comes next?”


End file.
